Chapter 10
Cameron
I did my best not to get angry with my younger lovers. Stern, when needed. Overbearing, maybe, but only because no one else had ever protected them.
But angry?
No. That wasn’t who I wanted to be.
They’d both been hurt in the past. Worse, they’d been betrayed by the people who were supposed to love them. Supposed to care for them. While I couldn’t rewrite the past, I could damn well build them a better future, brick by careful brick.
But right now?
Right now, I was fit to be tied.
Since Mason got cleared for sex, I’d been harping on the two of them to be careful. Not because I didn’t trust them, but because I knew better.
Did I want another baby? Sure. About as much as I wanted to marry Sebastian.
But Rosie couldn’t even crawl yet. Mason’s body was still recovering after growing a human and almost dying in the process. We weren’t even a year out from the trauma of that birth, and we sure as hell weren’t ready for round two.
So yes, I’d been reminding her to take her damn pill. And yes, I’d pulled Seb aside more than once to make it very clear that pulling out was not a form of contraception. Not a real one.
But being young came with its own special kind of ignorance—the kind that makes you feel untouchable. Like, consequences don’t apply to you.
And I thought— really thought—that they were both smart enough to stop and think.
I was wrong.
Because if either of them had an ounce of foresight, I wouldn’t be standing in a pharmacy aisle, staring at a wall of pregnancy tests.
Early detection. Digital. Rapid results.
One line. Two lines. Words. A cross.
Yes. No. Maybe.
Hell if I knew.
I’d never actually seen a test up close before. And while I loved that Mason trusted me enough to ask for help, I couldn’t help but feel like Seb or Lucian would have been a better fit for the job.
The fluorescents buzzed overhead, a relentless hum that might as well have been a swarm of blood-hungry insects. My skin crawled, and my heart thundered loud enough to leave me dizzy. A tremor crawled into my hands, and I stuffed them deep into my jeans to keep from showing it.
For weeks, I’d been hinting to Mae that I thought she might be expecting again.
You’ve been sleepin’ a lot, are you feeling alright?
What’s got you so sensitive, Sweetpea?
Are you sure you’re not comin’ down with something?
Looking back on it, I could’ve been more direct, but the point stood. I knew something was off, and she didn’t listen until her damned girlfriend, the one none of us had met, brought it up.
My jaw tensed as I reached out, fingers grazing a laminated box. The tests rattled inside the cardboard as I brought it closer. I squinted, trying to make sense of the tiny white lettering on the back.
Why the hell did they make this stuff so hard to read?
I squinted harder, hoping for something useful. This box had it all: promises of early results, 99% accuracy, instructions in six different languages, but none of it told me what I really needed to know.
Would Mason be okay?
She loved Rosie. God, did she love that baby. And she was a fantastic mother—gentle, patient, all soft hands and lullabies. Watching the two of them together filled my heart so full I swore it might burst. One more baby would probably tear it right at the seams.
But Mason didn’t want that. Not now. Not again. Not yet.
She was just about as anti-pregnancy as I was these days.
She had too much going on—album deadlines, interviews, photo shoots stacked back-to-back. She wanted to be there for every one of Rosie’s milestones, not miss them because she was too sick or too swollen or too damn exhausted to crawl across the floor after our daughter.
Fuck, I didn’t know how I’d react if—when—the test came back positive.
If I had to bet, I’d be irritated at her for not listening.
Ready to kill Seb for getting her pregnant.
I didn’t know for sure he was the one that did it, still he once let it slip that he believed “pulling out” was an effective form of birth control and wouldn’t listen when I told him it wasn’t.
The fear of the unknown wouldn’t help anything right now. So I grabbed a few different boxes for good measure and turned on my heel to head toward the front.
That’s when the air shifted, as if something had entered the aisle behind me.
My chest tightened. My pulse thrummed in my ears.
The lights flickered and a cold tickle crawled up the back of my neck. The kind of feeling you get when someone stares at you. Not dangerous, not yet, but it could be.
Slowly, I turned to look over my shoulder.
Nothing. Just the empty aisle behind me. Boxes of antacids. Shampoo. A stained patch on the velcro-like carpet decorating the floor.
Still, I didn’t relax.
I knew better.
I forced myself to breathe, slow and even, despite the tingling anxiety dancing across my limbs. For the last eight months, I’d been free from the Sons of Christ.
Still, the unease lingered.
Deep down, I knew freedom didn’t mean safety, and silence didn’t mean peace.
But maybe that was just the paranoia talking.
The soundtrack of my drive home wasn’t music—it was the crunch of gravel beneath my tires and the thoughts ricocheting around my head.
Most of my anger had faded, at least where Mason was concerned. Sebastian should’ve known better.
What the hell were we supposed to do if she was pregnant?
My jaw ached from how hard I’d been grinding my teeth. By the time the house came into view, I wasn’t mad anymore—just confused, and maybe a little tired.
Normally, I’d stay in the truck for a few minutes, let the quiet settle me. Let the engine tick and cool while I watched the wind toy with the long grass.
But not today.
Today, I couldn’t wait.
The plastic bag rustled as I snagged it off the seat before pausing. Something in my gut told me not to walk in with the pregnancy tests visible.
And, while I didn’t know what the feeling was, I obeyed. Cracking open a box, I slid out three individually wrapped tests and slid them into my pocket before going inside.
The second I slipped my boots off, Sophia was on me like a bloodhound.
“How was your trip to the store?” She asked.
Suddenly, she was closer than I liked. Jesus. Had she been waiting for me to get home?
“Fine,” I mumbled, sidestepping her gaze.
But her eyes flicked down to my empty hands—and lingered.
“They were out of—” I started, then faltered, the lie unraveling before I even finished it. “Cigarettes?”
Her back went rigid.
“Cigarettes?” she echoed, tone sharp enough to draw blood. “You don’t smoke anymore.”
I exhaled through my nose, already regretting it.
“They’re not for me,” I said. “Seb’s out.”
She didn’t say anything, just looked at me like she could see straight through the excuse.
I made a mental note to text Seb to grab a pack before he came home. If I were going to lie, I had to make it believable.
“Hey, you seen Mae?”
Sophia’s eyes narrowed, and my heart skipped.
“Why?” she asked, leaning in, her suspicion barely masked by a honied tone.
I shrugged, trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible.
“She was sick this morning. I wanted to check on her,” I said slowly, but definitely not convincingly.
Sophia’s face twisted into a skeptical knot, but she didn’t press. At least, not in the way I expected.
“You know I hate liars.”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“And I wouldn’t lie to you, Sugar.”
Her baby blues pinned me like a butterfly under glass, dissecting every inch of my face with surgical precision.
Then she reached out and placed her hand over my heart.
Warmth from her palm soaked through the cotton of my shirt, and I silently begged the universe not to let her feel the thudding panic hammering in my chest.
Sophia exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving mine. Then, without warning, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me.
I was too stunned to kiss her back. Not because I didn’t want to—but because I didn’t know if I deserved it. If she noticed, she didn’t say.
When she stepped away, she cleared her throat and adjusted her top like the moment hadn’t just knocked the breath out of me.
“Mason’s in her room, by the way,” she said, nodding toward the basement steps.
I thanked her and turned, heading downstairs.
It was no secret I fucking hated the basement. And I hated it even more that Mae insisted on making it her bedroom.
Back when I first moved in, I had a damn good reason to avoid the space. It was unfinished, smelled like mildew, and was covered in cobwebs so thick they could’ve passed for insulation. But Mason? She didn’t care.
She paid a contractor to overhaul the whole thing—and now, it looked better than the rest of the house. Plush carpets. Whitewashed walls. Tasteful, modern decorations that made it feel more like a designer loft than a former cellar.
She even had a bathroom built on the far side. I’d never been in it, so I couldn’t speak to the finish, but knowing Mason, it was probably cleaner and nicer than my own damn room.
Hell, I’d never even been inside her room, not properly. I knew it was tucked in the back corner, just past the couch, but placed far enough away from the main area to give her privacy.
I reached the bottom of the steps, headed toward the black door in the corner, and knocked three times.
At first, I heard nothing and assumed she’d fallen asleep. Mason had gone from sleeping maybe four hours a night to these midday cat naps about three weeks ago, and that was when I first suspected something might be wrong.
I steeled myself to walk in and leave the tests somewhere, and then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Come in, Sophia thinks I’m asleep.
My chest hollowed with an exhale as I opened the door. The scent of lavender and vanilla flooded out, and I squinted to see through the darkness.
There were no windows in this room, and the only light came from a butterfly-shaped lamp perched atop a packed bookshelf. The stained glass of its wings cast technicolor patterns across the room.